Insanity, Adventure, and an Inquisitor
by AvatarofBahamut
Summary: Shiloh Fisher was just an ordinary young woman trying to make her way after graduating college. However, her life is turned upside down when a strange occurrence lands her in a strange new world, where things of fantasy are a matter of fact. Between a tear in the sky, and wars of politics and philosophy, she must find her place in the land known as Thedas. ?/OC DA:Inquisition
1. Curiosity Swallowed the Cat

_AvatarofBahamut Presents_

_Insanity, Adventure, and an Inquisitor_

_A Dragon Age:Inquisition Fanfiction_

Currently rated T for violence and perhaps some profanity. May be changed to M later if plans for future content and sufficient feedback indicate a rating change may be deemed desirable or necessary.

Chapter 1: Curiosity Swallowed the Cat

The horns and calls of cars could be heard just outside the window of the bus. The sky was still a dark blue, the eyes of the city closed with not even a single star to light up the sky. Only the yellow glare of street lamps made the streets visible, revealing the slow trickle of early morning crews herding into their office buildings and stores. A metallic smell permeated inside of the vehicle, the air carrying it along with it the muffled coughs and mutterings of people on board.

The siding felt chilled to the touched, a rather unpleasant feeling that came upon Shiloh Fisher as she took her seat, resting her back. The cold stung at her shoulders, causing her to wince and grip tightly to the thermos of hot coffee in her hand, and the strap of her pink cloth book bag in the other. Her eyes shifted to the door of the bus sliding closed. The bus rolled away from her stop, the driver vigilantly watching the road ahead.

The young woman looked at the clunky silver watch strapped to her wrist, sleepily checking the time as she waited arriving at her destination. She let a displeased utterance escape her lips as the hands pointed to three minutes after five. More specifically, it was three minutes after five in the morning. Finding that she often met mornings the way a disgruntled cat met a pestering child that pulled its tail, it was a wonder she managed to make a routine of this five days a week for her work.

Over her loose fitting dark grey uniform was a thin, wine colored sweatshirt which certainly kept the wind outside from nipping at her, but did little to provide her warmth as she shivered from the cold air hanging around her. But money for her wasn't something she could be flexible about now and a new, more substantial covering would have to wait until her next paycheck.

Life was certainly difficult for the twenty-three year old after she got her bachelor's degree. Perhaps this was her own fault, she thought. She had always thought herself practical, but she allowed herself to follow her heart and choose a major that spoke to her passions. But her passions could not find her work to put food on the table so it seemed.

She eventually found work that would cover her needs, and she moved in with two of her friends, agreeing to help cover rent in return for staying with them in their apartment. It was a nice enough place and between the three of them they could cover expenses. And her friends were agreeable as roommates. She felt a bit guilty taking advantage of their generosity and wished she could do more for them in return.

Perhaps she could have if she had picked a major that would actually get her a decent paying job, she thought. But, she knew better than to dwell on what might have been. This was the way it was, and the thing to do now was move forward. She had to make something out of what hand she had been dealt. And besides, she told herself, she was usually only this down on herself when it was morning, when her mood was pretty dour to begin with. Some coffee and an hour or so of work and she would be back to the person she usually was…which certainly felt better than brooding in a corner.

The doubt was always in the back of her mind though, and it made her doubt her decisions and whether she could balance what she wanted with what she knew was practical.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the bus came to a stop and let a few people off before picking up again. Just a little ways to go, she thought.

The hand that was gripping her book bag came up, and she brushed back the strands of rusty black hair that barely rested on her shoulders. She pressed the loosed strands to the shaggy whole, grateful that her mess of hair would be covered by her working cap.

The bus ran its course, taking her deep into the city. The streets became busier with people, even at this hour of the morning. Her gaze turned to watch them, and she saw the lights beginning to turn on in buildings across the street. It was quite a way to go, but the bus finally stopped a few blocks from the central, downtown area of the city, in front of a large escalation of steps.

Shiloh finally sat up, with thermos and bag in hand, taking one last look out the window. Her reflection appeared alongside her, her own dark brown eyes looking expectantly at her. She quickly looked away, feeling scrutinized by the image. She climbed out of the bus, gulping down her coffee and stowing the empty thermos away in her bag.

The bus rolled away, joining the fray of cars, taxis, and pedestrians. Shiloh took a deep breath and she braved the stair, all the while looking at the building she approached. It was hear she worked; a place that was old, built of grey bricks and mortar, with pillars like a temple to a deity of ancient Grecian origins. On either side of the main entrance were stone statues of lions, fiercely standing watch. And it was knowledge over which they presided, she mused, perhaps worth more than the paper it was printed on. Perhaps the bright thing in her current state of affairs was that the public library was what she tended to, granting her both a place of work, and in her off-hours, a place of refuge to lose herself in the volumes that lined the halls.

The history section in particular would be her place of recluse. After all, that was the major she pursued, the passion in which she allowed herself indulgence. The people and events of the past fascinated her. History was a window to cultures, lives, and ways of thinking that may have fallen with the progress of time and civilization. And yet, there were still common themes, ideals, and archetypes that tied the whole of human history together.

She had hoped to work in a museum, or perhaps help an archaeologist excavating ruins in a far off land. Or perhaps her knowledge would be useful in serving to advise someone in a position of leadership. But such positions were limited, and finding anything else related to her field was like trying to find hen's teeth. On top of that, people in power were looking for more specialized and experienced folk who were more in tune with the way of things in business and politics. And this was what led her to her current situation.

"Good morning, Miss Fisher!"

At first she did not hear the greeting directed at her. Her mind was still involved in her thoughts. Shiloh continued to walk up the steps. Then, she was greeted a second time.

"I said, 'Good Morning, Miss Fisher!'"

Shiloh looked up to see a round, dark skinned man strolling out of the door, dressed in a tailored purple suit. She finally realized she had been spoken to and her face flushed red from embarrassment. Especially since the man in question was the head librarian.

"My apologies, Mr. Lancing," she bowed her head. The older man shook his head.

"You need to wake up, Miss Fisher," he replied sternly, "Or I'm sure Ms. Kingsly will want to lecture you about how not getting enough sleep hinders work performance."

Shiloh tried to answer, but she found herself stumbling for the right words.

"I can… there's no need to…I will…"

Mr. Lancing let out a laugh and smiled, showing that he was not as serious as he appeared.

"It's no trouble, I'm sure you and the others will keep the library ship-shape as always," he assured her, "But, do try to work on paying attention to what's around you. Sometimes distractions can lead you into trouble, Miss Fisher."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good," replied Mr. Lancing, "I need to run to a meeting with some city officials, so the other librarians will be looking after things along with my second, Ms. Daniels."

Shiloh nodded. Mr. Lancing tipped his hat to her before tapping his feet down the stairs, and walking down the street, away from sight.

The people she worked with were nice enough. Ms. Kingsly, her supervisor, could be a bit strict, but when she was off the clock she was not at all unfriendly. The librarians were quite agreeable and fun to speak with during breaks. Most of the other custodians like herself spoke to one another if they were working on something together, otherwise everyone worked away. The physical labor was also good for keeping Shiloh focused once she got to work, which was something she was grateful for as she was usually an easily distracted young woman.

She went inside, her footsteps echoing in the vast spaces inside the library. The insides had dark green, hard floors, winding staircases, stain-glass windows, and row after row of books. At the center was the information desk, a little wooden structure with computers, chairs, and telephones set up along the top. An older women in a dress was minding it, and Shiloh promptly waved to her when the two met their gazes. She waved back, greeting her with a smile.

It was just as any other day, she thought. And perhaps one day she could return here as simply as visitor. Perhaps she could only hope.

Her destination was down a level however, and so she went past down a side hallway to a set of stairs which she descended. At the bottom was a metal door with an 'employee's only' label slapped on the front. She had a key in her pocket, and used it to let herself in. The room had a small number of lockers piled up on one another, as well as various cleaning supplies.

One was her own, which she promptly stashed her book bag and sweatshirt inside. She then proceeded to grab a broom, as she usually started the morning by sweeping the children's wing of the library by herself. She grabbed it by the wooden handle, taking the old broom back up with her.

She walked back across the main lobby to another set of descending stairs that would take her to the children's wing, but no before being stopped by the librarian she had greeted before.

"So, Shiloh, how have you been?"

"Good enough," she replied, "And yourself, Ms. Jones?"

"Fair. I will be very happy once my grandchildren come to visit me. My son is supposed to bring them this weekend for a theater performance down the street. But they never come down to the city without seeing their old granny."

"I'm sure. It must be nice to have family that lives so close by," Shiloh laughed.

The librarian raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, that's right! You're from out of state, aren't you, dear?"

"Other side of the country," Shiloh replied.

"My, my, you must get homesick every now and again."

"Sure, but I am doing the best I can. I'll get enough money for a trip back home soon enough," Shiloh answered with some optimism.

"Let's hope sooner rather than later," replied Ms. Jones.

"Anyway, I should be getting to work. We can speak more during my lunch break, if you'd like."

"Very well. Oh! Before I forget, how is Dirk?"

Dirk was Shiloh's white lab rat, her pet that she kept in her room back at her apartment. She often mentioned him in conversation, and thought very highly of her small furry companion, even if he wasn't as eager for human attention as say a dog or a cat.

"I think he rather likes the time to himself. Still, my roommates are talking about getting a dog. Not so sure about it, but who knows? As long as the dog likes all of us and behaves itself, it could work."

"You'll just have to see. But I'm sure you can tell me all about it at lunch."

Shiloh picked up her broom once more and went down the stairs, bidding the librarian farewell. She walked down the flight of stairs. It was a short ways down, and the wing stood behind a large, wooden door with old craving upon the frame. Everything had been as any other days since she had come to work here. But today, she noticed that there was something a little out of place.

The door to the children's wing was wide open. Usually she was the one to deal with the small area herself. Perhaps someone else could be working on it early, she thought. But, then she noted something else, which was the fact the lights were turned off. Did the night shift forget to lock up after they were done?

With broom in one hand, she reached in and felt along the wall for the light switch. The lights came on easily, lighting up the room. She sighed and swerved around so she was inside. At first, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Shiloh took a deep breath, walking around and through the rows of books. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing else seemed to be anything other than it should.

"Well, I'll just have to let someone know to remind the graveyard shift to lock up…"

She started to proceed as normal, taking her tools in hand. Her broom lightly brushed the floor, carrying away any dust that could be left behind. Shiloh worked down one side, making sure to carefully search every corner for dust and other residues.

As she was working, she heard a strange noise emitted from the back of the room, like the fluttering of a bird's wings. Perhaps it was a loose book, she thought, and as she worked her way back there she could place it on the correct shelf. She kept on working only to hear a different sound, this time sounding like the low hum of a dust-clogged fan. Again, nothing out of ordinary. But, she continued to work her way to the back of the room where the sounds had come from.

As she grew closer, she suddenly felt a chill in the air tingling at her spine. More sound came from the back, louder and sounding more like a strong wind just before a storm. Could a fan be broken? She picked up her broom and specifically directed herself to where she heard the sound coming from. The source of the noise seemed to be from the very back corner of the children's wing, and it grew louder still as she grew closer. The air became even colder, to the point where Shiloh could see her breath. She put down her broom briefly and rubbed her hands together before picking it up again.

The back wall was only a few feet away. The volume of the noise began to stabilize, as well as the cold. However, she could see a large grey shadow looming over the bookcases, something large and rectangular. Perhaps it was the shadow of a large portable fan, she thought. It would explain the noises. But then, why had it become so cold?

But, her thoughts were interrupted by the glow of a faint red light beginning to outline the shelves around her. Shiloh quickened her pace and turned around the final bookshelf to see what the source of this mystery was before her. But, what she found was not what she had anticipated. It was quite far from anything she had imagined.

In the back corner of the children's wing of the library was a massive door. Normally, one might not think something so strange about a door. But Shiloh knew full well that anyone who came to this part of the library often knew that such a door as this was never there before. There was a small maintenance door on the other side, but it was nothing like what was before the young worker now.

The massive door seemed to reach to the ceiling, and it was made of a sturdy, copper-coated metal. Two heavy, dark handles were on either side. The design was unlike anything she had seen in the library before- with writing in a strange, geometric script framing the door. A vast scene was engraved into the door, littered with characters and creatures across many different landscapes and different scenarios.

The people in the scenes came in various shapes and sizes, but many seemed to wear clothing that struck Shiloh as being very much like that which people wore in medieval and renaissance Europe. Tunics, dresses, suits of armor, and weapons long having been discarded from common use in modern society adorned the people in the scenes. But, she also noted that some of the people had unusual physical features, such as pointed ears or horns upon their brow. It was almost as if she was seeing some sort of fantastical scene depicted from old folklore or a fairytale.

The scenes depicted all sorts of things from battles to weddings to perhaps friends enjoying a simple drink. Themes such as freedom, tyranny, love, war, deception, judgment, morality, seemed prevalent. What an intricate design this was, she thought. She had only seen similar things in photographs of old church doors, but nothing quite like this. And one question kept coming back to her: what on earth was this door doing here in the first place? It certainly wasn't here yesterday, that much she knew.

Her eyes feel to the very center of the door, which had a single creature at the heart of all the scenery. It was a dragon, much like something out of old western legends, with massive horns and thick scales. Its mouth was wide open and it was bearing its claws. Shiloh could practically see every detail of the creature, every imperfection in every scale. And, on either side of the door, the dragon's claws had beneath them a single red gem, emitting a glowing light.

And therein was the answer as to where the light had come from. Shiloh could still hear the noise around her, and her first instinct was to get someone and ask them about the presence of the door. What was it doing here? Why wasn't it here before? Certainly it couldn't go anywhere, something appearing between one day and the next could only be a decoration, right?

But why something so complex and imposing in the children's wing? Certainly, the scenes depicted were of a fantasy variety, but the scenes depicted had a level of maturity and sophistication that seemed beyond the scope of even a very bright child.

Why was it suddenly so cold and where was the noise coming from? At first, she turned around, determined to get some answers from the front desk as to the nature of this door. But, she found herself curiously looking back at the door against her better judgment. Perhaps it would not hurt to examine the door more closely before she went to ask, she thought. After all, it would be quick, and she could go about her day once she got answer from the front desk.

But a few questions occurred to her. Do they even know about this door? Why has the appearance of this door been accompanied by strange noises and a sudden chill? She shook her head. Surely there was a logical explanation for what was going on, she kept telling herself in protest.

Her hand reached out to touch the door, and she swore she saw the two gems inside the door flicker briefly. She shrugged it off as nothing. It was just the light, she mused. She proceeded to bring herself closer, feeling along the edges. It felt cold to the touch, just as the air around her. Perhaps the sudden cold was coming from the door? It was a silly notion, she thought, but it was a notion she had nonetheless.

Her hand came to rest on one of the handles, and she heard a clicking sound, as though it were coming from behind the door. It must be on the other side of the wall, she thought, there should be nothing behind this door. In fact, she was going to prove it to herself. Was it wise to do so? She questioned this, but she argued that her less logical side would not be sated unless she reassured herself of her assessment.

She pulled on the door, finding it had a little give. She put down her broom and brought up another hand, putting more of her strength behind pulling the door open. With both of her hands tugging at the handles, she found the door was starting to open. She pulled and pulled, finding that she met some resistance. But, Shiloh persisted in her efforts.

It was several minutes of pulling before she felt the door open a small amount. The air suddenly got even colder than before, causing Shiloh to wince. Her fingers were starting to hurt, both from the pressure she was exerting and the cold air filtering in. The opening became larger, until she felt a pressure building from the other side. She could see a field of white from the other side, and little particles floating, perhaps such as ice or snow?

"What the heck?"

Was there really something on the other side? What in the name of heaven and earth was she seeing? And why was she seeing it? Was this simply some feverish imagining or dream of hers and she was still asleep at her apartment?

At that moment, the pressure became so great on the opposite side. It burst forth, and a giant gust of wind blew in, knocking Shiloh to her feet. The doors spread wide open, but only second later Shiloh felt overwhelmed by the force pushing her down. She was blinded by pure white and the force of the wind, forcing her to close her eyes. The wind rolled over her like a giant wave, crashing cold against her body. She tried to turn onto her stomach, keeping herself in the same position on the floor with her hands and feet. However, she felt her fingers becoming buried in something. Was it ice? She couldn't tell, as they had gone numb from the cold.

It seemed like forever. But then, the gust suddenly stopped. The cold began to leave, replaced by a sudden rush of warmth. Shiloh's whole body tingled as her blood rushed to every freezing cell. Her cheeks felt burned from the gust and the biting chill. She took several deep breaths before rolling over, returning onto her back. Her fingers began to feel what was surrounding them. It was something slightly soft, but also prickly and verdant. She flexed her hands; feeling crumbles of dirt fall into her palm.

She slowly opened her eyes, everything seeming dark as though the lights had dimmed considerably, almost going out. When she fully opened her eyes she could no longer see the door. At first she sighed with relief, happy that her ordeal with it was over. However, her eyes suddenly widened when she saw that the door was not the only thing that was missing.

The walls were gone. The books and shelves were gone. The whole library was gone, practically vanished out of thin air. But, there was no city, no people, no nothing, she observed.

What was around her were vast grassy hills and wild plants over a rolling landscape, all under a dark night sky with millions of stars and the silvery moon shining overhead. Shiloh sat up, bringing her hands forward to look at them, they had stains from her having buried them in dirt, and she could feel the faint moisture that the earth had left upon them.

She found her first urge was to scream at the insanity of what just happened and where she was now. Or rather, where she was not. But the shock drained her of any energy to let loose a cry, and instead she found herself letting out a small whimper, her voice faltering.

"…W-what… what the hell just happened to me…Where am I? What am I doing here? And what does it have to do with that god-forsaken door!? …Am I dreaming?"

…

**To be continued…maybe? **

**Author's Notes: Current Inquisitor for the story is undecided. Suggestions are welcome. Some events may differ from Inquisition since the game has not been released at the time of this chapter's posting. Will make edits and adjustments as needed.**


	2. Welcome to Thedas

Chapter 2: Welcome to Thedas

Shiloh was at a loss, for not even words could surmount the flood of emotions that were rushing into her after what had just happened. After encountering a mysterious door with scenes of battles and dragons and people of mysterious description, she was thrust into a strange place, not the library or anything resembling her familiar surroundings. Wherever she was, it certainly wasn't home.

The custodial woman took in a deep breath, finding herself letting out noises of whimpering and whining without any tears to accompany them. She kicked the soft earth beneath her, the tip of her shoes scrapping away grass and dirt from the surface. She finally managed to emit a high pitched shriek, before balling up her fist and thrusting it in the air in frustration. The release of her tension did her good, as her heavy breathing became quiet, and her mind finally stilled enough for her to think more productively beyond a primal tantrum.

She took a good look around at the meadow-like landscape around here, noticing that she was at the top of a small hill among a couple that dotted the area. Shiloh absent mindedly brushed at her uniform and ran her fingers through her hair, which had become messed up quite a bit after the ordeal with the door.

That was when she caught view of a light a ways away from a dirt path not too far behind her. Good, she thought. Maybe she could find people nearby and find out what on earth happened to her and where she was. But, then she had a very strange thought as she stared at the road for a moment or two. Even if she found other people, would they be able to help her? After all, could she really just explain to them that some door appeared out of nowhere and magically whisked her away from her home?

She certainly didn't want to wait around, that she was certain of. So with that in mind, Shiloh walked closer to the road before she began to follow along the side towards the flicker of light, warily scanning her surroundings along the way. It was a rather quiet and peaceful walk, feeling the wet earth and grass crunch beneath her. And yet, there was something odd about it all. Shiloh perhaps was feeling a natural anxiety, or perhaps it was an understatement, concealing how terrified she was of not know where she was or why she was there or how to get home.

There was the subtle sound of crickets chirping and the night air clinging around her. She continued to move, getting closer and closer to the light. She started to see more than one, accompanied by the silhouettes of buildings, houses from what it appeared to her in the distance. Shiloh picked up her pace, slightly weaving in so she was now walking along the edge of the road. The silhouettes grew larger and more detailed, and the lights brighter, which began to more and more resemble firelight from lamps and torches and other flaming sources of light.

"So, no electricity then, I take it? Or maybe I'm just seeing things."

It was a while before she saw the quaint structures made of wood and rock. The path began to be lined with large, human-sized stones. As she passed them, Shiloh grazed her hand alongside them, trying to gather in as much detail about her surroundings as she could gather. At last she came upon the place to realize there were other buildings as well aside from the houses, also made of similar brown and gray materials.

The cluster much resembled a more rustic version of a small town, but that wasn't quite the right word Shiloh thought best described the place. There were indeed no sources of electricity that she could see, only burning lamps and such in windows. A flame she had initially seen before that was rather bright had gone out as she arrived upon the place. Perhaps the best word she could find to describe it was a small, quiet little village of sorts. None of the houses were certainly made out of the plastic-like materials and bright colors she was used to seeing. It was all rather brown and grey, with patches of grass surrounded by light sheets of dust and dirt.

She began to hear voices, but she could not see a single soul at first. Shiloh began to further wander into the village, curiously wanting to investigate in hopes of findings clues as to her own whereabouts. But a part of her still asked whether it was safe. There were still many other questions that needed to be answered, or at least new ones that seemed to enter her mind gradually as she took in the scenery. Why was there no electricity, and why did this 'village' appear so old fashioned. Perhaps even…older than old fashioned, she seemed to conclude.

The image of the large door flashed across her mind, sending chills up her spine. She suddenly took to the side of a house, concealing herself in a large patch of shadow and breathing nervously. What she remembered in particular were the details on the door- of dragons, of strange men and scenes of fantasy, battles and people dressed on armor look societies of the so called 'dark ages'. Or, that's what she remembered of that ornate object that brought her here, at least.

It was a strange thought, perhaps insane under most circumstances. But perhaps her circumstances themselves seemed rather crazy, certainly by her standards. After all, if someone else told her a story relating events like the ones she was experiencing, would she believe them? Her doubt was very strong in that regard. But the thought pertained to a possible connection between the details on the door and perhaps the nature of where she was at the moment. This group of buildings seemed to lack any sort of electricity, or other signs of modernization. And it also hit her rather uncomfortably that things around her smelled a bit more, pungent and unwashed than what she was used to. She felt her stomach turn over inside her gut from the unpleasant aroma.

No, she couldn't be in some sort of medieval-type setting, could she? Was she somehow transported to the middle ages? Now that was certainly an insane idea, but there was certainly evidence that existed and could support the notion. But, only if she had something stronger to go on could she reach a more certain conclusion. She shook her head and decided to reserve judgment; however, she vowed she would remain on the cautious side until she knew more.

The twenty-three year old peeked her head around the corner of a building, spotting two men walking about, conversing with one another. It did give her a bit of relief to see other human beings, at the very least.

"Well, nothing has certainly happened around these parts," she heard one of them speak to the other. She could understand them, whatever language they spoke, it certainly sounded like English. However, his accent was a bit thick like a British man, and she wondered if perhaps whatever place this was might be somewhere in England… or maybe at least a place that was like England? Or perhaps she was jumping to conclusions.

"Even small villages like ours still need to be prepared should the worst come to pass. This is really a grim time for all of Thedas, and let me tell you, friend, Ferelden is no exception."

Thedas and Ferelden. Those were not names of any places that Shiloh was aware of. Were they names of nations, towns, cities? Was one of them the name or the village? As she was wondering this as she listened in, she took a look at the two men and the clothes they wore.

Both were wearing dull, earthen colored tunics, with brown plants and leather belts and boots. One had his hair tied back, the other with a rather large beard. They seemed reminiscent of people from a simpler time, without the polish of bright colored shirts and hoodies and jeans and gadgets that were commonplace sights for Shiloh. But certainly, their clothes weren't reason to assume she had been catapulted into some sort of fantasy setting, was it? No, she wanted to brush the thought aside. But she couldn't ignore that the names they mentioned were not ones she had ever heard.

"The King used to be one of them, you know."

"The King was a Grey Warden, or have you been kicking back one too many pints of ale?"

"One of the travelers in the inn once told me- They said he was trained as a Templar before he joined the wardens, he said. Don't you think that will make him more sympathetic?"

"I don't think so. His actions over the past few years seem to suggest otherwise. But even if protecting Ferelden from the damage done by both sides is his top priority, he isn't here, and we're just a small little spit-puddle out near the border with Orlais."

Kings, Templars, some group called the Grey Wardens…it certainly sounded like something one would find in a medieval style fantasy setting. Shiloh was surprised that she would run into such information so quickly. But, from the sounds of things, wherever she was, people were nervous about events that were taking place in the world around them. But honestly, maybe that was just a problem that came with humanity, Shiloh supposed. But the evidence was slowly becoming more strongly in favor of some kind of fantasy world, she deduced. But, a voice in the back of her mind wasn't quite convinced, requiring her to investigate further.

And yet, there were other needs she realized would need to be met. She didn't feel tired, as it was early morning where she came from, but eventually she would require a place to sleep. She would also need a change of clothes and some money, at least enough until she could figure out more about her surroundings and the possibility of getting home, all while making sure not to attract too much attention to herself. Walking around in her janitorial uniform was certainly something conspicuous.

Shiloh began to hear rustling behind, like the sound of footsteps. She felt the urge to leap in place, terrified at who might be not too far behind her. Had someone noticed her? Was there a guard around who patrolled the village who might attack her if they saw her wearing her strange clothes? Or perhaps they would simply arrest her, or maybe at best berate her. But the young woman was not that optimistic about her prospects.

Indeed, she had an observer whose eye she had caught. But, the person in question was no patrolling guard in a metal suit.

"Pssst!"

She heard a quiet, high pitched hiss from behind her. She initially didn't look around, not quite sure of what was going on. Oh, how she hoped it wasn't a guard, and if it was, that he wouldn't do something horrible to her. She had just gotten to this strange place and if she was too meet some terrible fate, at least she hoped it would not be today.

"Excuse me miss?"

The voice that seemed to be directed at her was not low and stern, but rather a high, curious voice in its tone, perhaps something juvenile. Shiloh finally turned her head to see a small figure wrapped up in a tattered, dark grey cloak tied together at the neck with a brown string. The person behind her was small, appearing to be around four feet tall.

"Spare a copper, miss?," the figure held out their small, thin hands, which had a very light tan to them. Shiloh felt a brief pang of guilt, not having anything to offer. But, from their height and the sound of their voice, the person speaking to her was indeed a child. However, will high in pitch, it was certainly not a high squeak. Perhaps a boy?

"My father spent his last few coins so we can stay at the inn, and we have nothing to pay for supper tonight."

Shiloh felt her heart tugged at a bit. However, her heartstrings seemed to pause when the child looked her up and down.

"My apologies," she bowed, "I must look rather strange to you."

The child looked up at her, his face hidden by the hood of his cloak.

"Your clothes are rather strange. And you have a bit of an accent. Are you a traveler, too? Where are you from?"

Shiloh felt a bit uneasy with the sudden questions.

"I am a traveler… of sorts. But I am quite lost," she admitted. She looked down at the child and sighed regretfully.

"And these clothes are all I've got. Otherwise I'd give you enough money to eat for a week, if I could," she replied.

"So you're like me and my father, then. Except we're not lost," the child smiled at her, "He travels around, you see. He's a traveling merchant who sells clothes."

"No kidding," Shiloh laughed, feeling a great sense of irony. Was this a coincidence or some sort of twisted sense of cosmic humor?

"I'd buy something from him if I had a coin to my name," Shiloh continued.

"Why don't you? Were you robbed?"

Shiloh thought about the question carefully. Perhaps she was in a sense. She was robbed of her family, her friends, her job, all the technology and knowledge of her age, all that was left was just herself and her memories.

"Yes," she gulped in a sudden urge to sob. The child frowned and shook their head.

"That's just awful! My father and I have had bandits try to steal from us and we were able to deal with them. He hates them, though he says he regrets that it is sometimes a product of desperation that some exist…or that's what he says anyway."

The child turned their gaze down, as if they were thinking on something a moment.

"You know," he thought allowed, "Maybe he'll let you stay with us for the night. My father is really nice! I bet if we told him what happened he'd want to help you as much as you said you wanted to help me when I asked you for money!"

"I…"

Shiloh hesitated.

"I'm surprised you would offer your help so readily to a stranger, especially when you are in such need yourself."

"Well, my father says to show kindness to others, and being a good person can give you a type of inner strength. And… you seem like you might be pretty nice… of course…I did just meet you…"

"Well, I don't exactly have many options at the moment," Shiloh waved her arms, trying to assure him that his offer was appreciated. And what she said was true, she didn't have many options. Especially without hardly knowing anything and still sticking out like a sore thumb.

"I would be honored to have your help," she thanked him.

The child smiled.

"Not to worry," he said as he turned around, "Come on, the inn is this way."

The young woman began to follow close behind her new acquaintance. What an awfully convenient thing that had happened, she thought. Maybe a bit too convenient. But beggars can't be choosers, she told herself. If this was a trap and she was dead tomorrow, it probably wouldn't matter; she was kind of between a rock and a hard place, either way.

"What's your name?"

Shiloh's mind snapped back to reality at the sound of the question.

"Shiloh. My name is Shiloh Fisher."

The child giggled.

"A bit of an odd first name. Well, I certainly haven't heard anyone by that name."

They almost had a bit of a skip in their step, she noticed, which caused a half-smile to form on Shiloh's face. What a rather chipper one this kid was.

"You may call me Faolàn!"

Faolàn… what a strange name he had. A matter of her perspective, she guessed.

"You know, Faolàn…"

"Yes, Shiloh?"

Shiloh giggled a little at the use of her first name upon the lips of this child.

"I'm surprised you weren't scared of me when you saw the strange clothes I was wearing. I was honestly expecting someone to think I was some sort of witch or demon…"

"Well," the child's voice grew a bit more serious, "I haven't seen clothes like yours, and they MIGHT earn you some strange looks, that's for sure. But I don't think you're a witch or a demon. Or, at least, you can't always tell who is such by looking at them."

"No," Shiloh sighed, "Maybe not. Was that another lesson your father taught you?"

The kid mentioned their father quite a bit and the lessons he taught him. If nothing else, it seemed as though they looked up to him.

"No," Faolàn nearly whispered, "Everybody knows that."

"Oh," Shiloh replied, a bit surprised, "I guess that makes sense."

The inn was a larger building on the other side of the village. Faolàn and Shiloh followed the back paths behind the houses, where most of the village was cast in dark shadows. There was an old wooden sign hanging just above the entrance, and a small lamp illuminating both the front and back of the establishment. Faolàn turned around to go to the back, Shiloh tracing her fingers on the wood and stone that made up the structure of the side wall. She briefly looked up at the sky, seeing the starts that dotted it.

"My father and I are staying in the back room," Faolàn explained. As they came around, Shiloh noticed that there was a small caravan with a horse just outside, tethered down to a post. There were also piles of hay. She wondered if perhaps it belonged to Faolàn and his father or if it was owned by someone else staying at the inn. But, if Faolàn's family did own it, why didn't they just stay in their caravan and save their money for a proper meal?

Faolàn approached the backdoor, and under the lamplight he dug out his key and turned the lock. Shiloh quickly followed back to him as they opened the door and they went inside. The floor creaked under their shoes as lights from the front of the in slithered back towards the rooms. Many wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling. The walls were bare but handsome and well-built. Shiloh closed the rather hefty door behind the two of the before she saw her companion finally lower their hood.

"It's certainly a quiet night," Faolàn mused at the lack of loud noises. They could hear some people chatting in the front and some quiet laughter, but nothing too rambunctious. The young woman rested her eyes upon her small company, finally getting to see the face of this rather open and talkative child.

Faolàn was a boy, it seemed. His burnt ginger hair was tied back in a rather messy ponytail, his bangs falling over a pair of glittering green eyes. He rubbed his light freckled cheeks, letting out a light huff as he reached for the knob of one of the doors.

"Did you expect it to be busier?"

"I'm used to staying in places that are more crowded; if we even get to stay in the inn, that is. Usually we have to sleep in our small cart. It's not too bad, really, it's where we sleep on the road," Faolàn spoke as he fiddled with the key, "But when we're in town, it's nice to stay in an inn, if we can. It would be nice if we could buy a caravan, though…"

The door unlocked.

"Do you have to sleep in the cart because of money?," Shiloh asked, feeling a bit of both curiosity and pity for the boy.

"That's often a part of it. But sometimes even when we have money to spare, the innkeepers don't always let us stay. Some do because they're nice, some because they don't care who they take money from. But others might not because of my father."

"Why's that?"

"Well…"

Faolàn was about to explain as he opened the door to let the two of them in, when a large shadow was cast about the two of them.

"Good news, Faolàn! The innkeeper's brother fancied a pair of tunics I had made and paid me a decent sum. I got us some supper after all…"

The low baritone voice initially had a relieved, somewhat cheerful tone to it. Faolàn knew immediately who was speaking to him and looked up.

"F-father! That's great to hear!," Faolàn answered with a mixed tone of pleasant relief, and a light touch of anxiety.

Father? Shiloh turned her head up and away from the boy to see the person speaking to them.

"Faolàn? Who is this?"

The young boy turned his head.

"Father, this is Shiloh."

Shiloh bowed her head before turning it up again to see the person casting the shadow to be willowy framed man about a couple of inches above Shiloh's height. Which was intriguing, Shiloh thought, since she was only five feet and three inches. But, that wasn't what was surprising about the man Faolàn introduced as his father.

"I met her when I went out for a walk around the village…she…"

"I see… Son, you know I don't like it when you wander off without telling me," the father seemed to almost ignore her presence.

"I'm sorry, it's just when you said we had run out of money for food I wanted to help…"

The man drew closer, the dim light reflected off of a pair of deep blue eyes.

"I appreciate it. But wandering off and getting lost will not help either of us."

Finally, the father turned his gaze to Shiloh. And that was when she noticed markedly pointed ears barely veiled on either side of his head by a curtain of dark brown hair.

"My apologies, dear lady. I hope my son has not been giving you trouble," his tone was low and serious.

"Not at all. Quite the opposite… ummm…Sir…"

Shiloh felt herself at a bit of a loss for words, which wasn't exactly like her. But, how was she to speak to someone in a place such as this.

"I did not introduce myself. I am Dysraeln, a wandering merchant by trade."

"A pleasure to meet you, Dysraeln," Shiloh bowed, trying to be as respectful as she could to try and avoid causing any offense that might lead to him viewing her unfavorably. However, her show of respect seemed to be something surprising to the man, from the expression on his face.

"Father, Shiloh is a traveler like us. But she says that she was robbed."

"Oh?," he asked, curious, though he seemed to be reserving his pity, "That is unfortunate. Have you spoken to anyone about this? Are you with anyone else?"

"No, I admit I just arrived in the village, alone. I have no idea where I am and…"

She looked down at her janitor suit, finishing her sentence mentally. The end being that she felt quite out of place and doubted whether anyone would render assistance to her. She was literally without a thing and was surprised her fortune to come upon Dysraeln's son and that she hadn't been met with suspicion or hostility…yet.

"We probably shouldn't stand out here. Come inside and you can explain yourself further."

The father extended a hand from under his long grey cloak, gesturing to her that she was welcome inside the room. She found her eyes wandering back to his ears as he went in, pulling out two worn chairs that were inside. The little boy tugged on her hand, encouraging her to follow the two of them.

"Are you coming, Shiloh?"

Shiloh shook her head, shaking herself from her fixation.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, truly."

Surely such fortune could not last, she thought. But at the very least, perhaps this opportunity would allow her to have some questions answered about her circumstances. At the very least, she might learn where she was and a little about this new world around her. What was Thedas? Ferelden? Who were the Templars and the Grey Wardens? Maybe not all of them would be answered, and maybe she would only get so far.

If nothing else, Shiloh had a feeling she wouldn't be returning home by any easy means. And she would need a number of things if she was to adapt to this world until a way home presented itself. And knowledge and acceptance of other's hospitality was certainly something she couldn't turn away.

…

**Author's notes: I am still accepting suggestions on the Inquisitor. But, I do have a version of the canon so far that I am working from for the previous games. Information about this canon will be revealed as the story progresses. As said before, some events from the beginning of Inquisition may differ from this story, for reason's previously mentioned. Thank you for your support. Until next time!**


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